


Words from Somebody

by inelegantly (Lir)



Series: SWAG 2016 Fills [5]
Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Canon Compliant, Communication, Cybersex, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Mutual Pining, Secrets, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 16:57:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5878471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lir/pseuds/inelegantly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There are pros who scoff at the idea of playing NetGo against amateurs, but Akira often finds the pastime helpful as a way to relax. It's late, and there aren't too many handles online, and he thinks he may have to settle for a match that's more of a teaching game than a fight — not the worst idea, when he is trying to unwind — before he sees it. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Three small letters: sai. </i>
</p>
<p>In between sessions for one of the Honinbo title matches, Akira finds himself playing NetGo with an opponent he never quite expected to face again. Though the identity of the person on the other side of the keyboard is never quite confirmed, Akira finds that there's a lot he won't stop himself from saying, presented with the illusion of anonymity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words from Somebody

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic from a prompt that at first blush seems fun and silly, but which in my execution blossomed into more of a serious story. The prompt itself was: " _Cybersex while playing NetGo. BONUS IF SHINDOU IS PLAYING UNDER SAI'S NAME AND WON'T EXPLICITLY STATE HE'S SHINDOU._ "
> 
> Instead of being a sexy cybering story, this became more of a story about relationships and secrets and the elephant that's still in the room, even if it maybe only comes up once in a blue moon. I didn't forget that Hikaru promises Akira to explain about Sai one day, but while I've been rewatching the anime, I hadn't made it to that point at the time of writing this. If I've made any slips keeping this story compliant with Akira's knowledge of Sai, please do let me know. That said, please also enjoy this story!

-

Akira is away from home, in the middle of one of the Honinbo title matches, and unable to sleep. 

The night he'd already spent in his hotel room does little to calm his nerves; despite his best efforts, he's struggling to place aside his memories of that afternoon's game. He's the one who sealed the move — there's no reason for him to obsess over his opponent's response, when his attack is as good as in limbo until the next day.

After a few more minutes of deliberation, of replaying the last few exchanges of the game, of recollecting it's momentum, the way he'd been forced into fighting hard lest he otherwise be pushed onto the defensive, Akira resolves to take out his laptop. The hotel has a free connection for those staying on business, and in short order, Akira's computer is online. As the NetGo website loads in his browser, just the sight of the familiar, tan interface begins to relax Akira's nerves. 

There are pros who scoff at the idea of playing against amateurs, but Akira often finds the pastime helpful as a way to relax. 

The user list loads, showing Akira the names of everyone currently signed in and looking for a match. He scrolls through it, searching for someone whose level of ability more closely matches his own. It's late, and there aren't too many handles online, and he thinks he may have to settle for a match that's more of a teaching game than a fight — not the worst idea, when he is trying to unwind — before he sees it. 

Three small letters: sai. 

For a moment, Akira cannot believe it. That's a name which has haunted him for years, long past the point when the mysterious Go savant lost relevance on the web. Without more news, new information, his fans had drifted away one by one, and Akira himself hasn't seen the handle since playing that second, fateful game, on the first day of his pro examinations. 

Most days, Akira does not think of Sai. But every so often he'll be playing in an official match, or a game in one of his study sessions, and the mere appearance of one of Sai's favored joseki will return Akira to that day. 

Akira clicks Sai's name, and propositions him for a match. 

He's almost expecting to be refused. It's true that in his heyday Sai was rumored to never turn down a match, but it's been years, and there is no guarantee that this is even the same Sai. For all Akira knows, the website's admins have reclaimed inactive usernames and parceled them back out; for all he knows, this could be a stranger moving about in Sai's skin. 

To his surprise, Sai accepts. Before he can think better of it, Akira takes black — plays to the same star point he'd selected for his opening move those many years ago. 

When white plays to 4-4, to the other star point just as Sai had done in their previous game, Akira _knows._

His more rational mind tells him, it's a common opening sequence. Anyone might have played that way. But despite knowing objectively that one move proves nothing, deep in his gut, _Akira knows._ He remembers that entire game, bitter, confusing defeat that it had been at the time. He could replay it move for move, if he wanted, if Sai wanted to play along. But if it really is Sai... 

Akira wants to play a game worthy of both their talents, wants to show Sai how much stronger he has become.

He lets the opening game play out, tempering aggression with practicality, refraining by sheer force of will from picking fights before they are wise. Sai's play feels different from how Akira remembers, though not unrecognizable — he thinks at first that it must be the passage of time, that Sai has tempered his playstyle through his own increase in experience. It's not until they enter the midgame that another possibility occurs to Akira.

He _recognizes_ this play. 

After Hikaru became a pro, Akira ended up playing more and more games with him. Not just professionally, in tournaments and in public events they were asked to attend — past a point they began meeting casually, playing recreationally, keeping up with each other's games and picking apart each other's techniques. After so much time playing with Hikaru, Akira knows his play better than almost anyone's — and after playing half a game with Sai, Akira thinks he knows _this_ play, too. 

'Shindou' he types into the website's chat, after a long moment of hesitation, 'Is that you?'

There's a lengthy pause, during which it occurs to Akira that Sai could resign, disconnect, could completely ignore his message — as the Sai of the old days was most likely to do — that by asking a stupid question, he might have ended the game and only enlivened the mystery. Then a new message appears on his screen.

'Shindou? Who's that, is that a friend of yours?'

For a moment, Akira's veins flood warm with relief. It's immediately followed by the hot flare of indignation, because something about the situation does not feel right. 

'He's a pro. You play as well as a pro. If you aren't Shindou, it only makes sense that you would know him.'

It's Akira's turn, so he punctuates his message by clicking to place his next stone on the board and _longing_ for the rewarding sound of the stone touching wood that he might have been gratified with, if they were playing face to face. 

'What would you say to me, if I was Shindou?'

His opponent doesn't immediately move, and Akira is left with a long moment to contemplate the question without the game moving in to distract him. Would he accuse Hikaru of being Sai? He'd already done that once — more than once — has taken the few, spare opportunities that have arisen during their friendship as pros to bring up that one NetGo game he'd played, and the knowledge Hikaru appears to have had of it. 

It's a course of action Akira has already run dry. If he found out that Shindou was Sai now, he'd take a different tact. 

'I'd yell at you for lying to me, for one thing. And then I would ask you what was worth not telling me the truth.'

Only the briefest of pauses comes after he's hit send, and then Sai is making his move on the Go board. Akira almost laughs at that — timed how it is, it feels uncannily like a deflection. 

'Sai isn't Shindou. And Shindou isn't Sai. And anyway, sometimes it's worth just existing as somebody on the net.'

Akira stares at that, and finds that he cannot disagree. He makes his next move, and Sai responds to it in kind, and for a few minutes more they fall out of conversation, sliding all the way into the game with the ease of old men at an onsen sliding into the hot water. It's relaxing, absorbing, in a way nothing else is to Akira. Go takes all of his focus and rewards him with challenge, and he wouldn't trade that feeling for anything else in the world. 

'Hey.'

It's the chat window again, blinking in between moves. 

'I didn't tell you what I would say to you, if I could say anything to you right now.'

_That_ sounds like a convoluted mess to Akira, and like he really _is_ talking to Hikaru, who really has been lying to him all along. But he can't get Hikaru's other words out of his head — that it's worth it just to exist as somebody on the net, or maybe to exist as somebody _else._ For the first time, it truly occurs to Akira that maybe there _is_ a reason Sai's identity was kept secret, and in that moment he can't quite maintain his anger at Hikaru for being inexplicably complicit in the situation. 

'Go ahead,' Akira types. 'Tell me what you would say to me.' 

'I would say that I wish you were here, instead of in some hotel room in the middle of a title match. I want you to be with me, so I can enjoy it when I beat you.'

'When you beat me,' Akira types, fingers moving too fast over the keys with his indignation. 'Who says that you would beat me?'

Between chatting and ruminating, Akira almost forgets to play. But he remembers himself, clicking the spot for his next move with a triumphant flourish of the mouse. There's no way the person he's talking to could be _anyone_ other than Hikaru now, even if he does play on the NetGo site with "akira" as his username. There are very few other people who would think so much about a young pro's business, as to know Akira was fighting in a title match, far from home. 

'Me. I say that I'm going to beat you, because you always fuck me better when you lose.'

It's... A little direct, even for Hikaru, and Akira finds himself covering his mouth with his hand. He's alone and still his cheeks are heating up with his embarrassment, flushing bright so that he wants to avert his eyes from his screen. He makes himself stare right at it, stare at the words Hikaru has typed in order to formulate a response. 

It's difficult, when all he can see in his mind's eye is Hikaru's body underneath him, sprawled on the floor beside the goban because sometimes, sometimes when Hikaru baits him after winning a game, it's all Akira can do not to retaliate with sheer physicality. Sometimes he gives into the impulse, and even as he pushes Hikaru at the shoulders Hikaru pulls him at the wrists, dragging him down to the floor and grinning all the way. 

'Is that what you want? For me to fuck you?' 

'It depends. Do you want me to roll on top of you instead? It's the least I can do, giving the loser the benefit of his choice!' 

Akira's blood flares hot again, steaming with righteous indignation at the _gall_ of Hikaru, to gloat about winning when he's still in the midst of a game. Akira can tell that his play is becoming sloppy but he sees no recourse to take about it, can only keep making moves as he sees them even as he keeps typing furiously into the chat. 

'I'd like to see you try! Maybe I will pin you down after I win our game, because it is only fair that the spoils should go to the one who comes out victorious.'

'Spoils? Did you just call me spoils?'

'You will be, after I get through with you.'

Akira realizes abruptly that he's breathing hard, that there's a building tightness in his pants that hadn't been there before the conversation took its most recent turn. He realizes a moment later that it's still Hikaru's — still "Sai"'s — turn to make a move, but even as he continues to wait, there's no activity on the Go board, and no activity in the chat.

'Shindou?' Akira types into the box. 

After another long minute of waiting, Akira follows it furiously with, 'Shindou! If you are... Touching yourself, in the middle of our game, I am not going to forgive you for this!'

'Forgive me?' appears in the box, far more quickly than Akira is expecting. It's followed immediately by: 'Who says I want you to forgive me?' 

It takes all of Akira's willpower not to scream between gritted teeth, when Hikaru is as always utterly _maddening,_ and when the absolute most maddening part of the situation _is_ that Hikaru isn't there. Hikaru is doubtlessly home, at their apartment, playing this game on the personal computer that _Akira_ had been the one to buy, and imagining it in his mind's eye just makes Akira homesick more so than horny. 

'I wish you were here, Shindou.'

There's a pause, and Akira can just imagine the way Hikaru would shuffle, sheepish in the face of Akira's genuine emotion, of this bare-faced admittance that Akira _misses_ him. 

'I wish you were here, too. I want to play you on our goban. And our bed is lonely without you.'

Akira rolls his palm down against his groin, more irritated now by his building state of arousal than he is interested in pursuing it actively. He stops himself from glancing over at the hotel bed, a huge queen-sized monstrosity far too big for a single person as slender as Akira is to occupy alone. Their bed at home is a double, and they both fit in it quite snugly indeed. 

'I'll be home in a couple days. We can play a game together then. We can sleep together then.' 

'Sleep together? Or do you mean, "sleep together"?'

Akira can just _hear_ the obnoxious eyebrow-waggle tone to Hikaru's voice, can imagine the way Hikaru would elbow at him and get in his space, irritate him on purpose just to see if Akira breaks and becomes childish and shoves him back. He wishes he could shove Hikaru — shove him right into bed and act on all of this strange, misplaced want they're building up between them. 

'Neither. Both. I wish I could shove you face-first into my hotel bed, and then haul you over so I could kiss you until you can't breathe from it.'

'I wish you could, too.'

There's a pause, punctuated by the placement of one of Hikaru's stones, calling Akira's attention back to the game. It's coming into the endgame, and it's close — he's forgotten himself enough that it takes him a moment, to assess the board and work out exactly _how_ close. 

'Will you think of me, when you sleep in that bed tonight?'

Akira almost laughs, at something so sappy coming out of Hikaru's fingers. But the words are prefaced by the name "sai," and he remembers again how they both feel about that — how sometimes there's a benefit to anonymity, to the distance that comes from an identity on the internet. The last thing Akira wants between them is distance, but maybe it's the distance that lets Hikaru — lets _him_ , for that matter — say all of these things in the first place. 

'Of course I will.' 

'Let's finish the game. Then we can go to sleep together.' 

That's sappy, too, but this time Akira doesn't feel like laughing. As he considers his next move, the concentration that had been lost to him amidst the flirting and lamenting their separation slowly washes back in, dragging him back to the rhythm of the game. It's as close as Akira has predicted, but when it comes down to it, he is the victor by two whole moku. 

'I told you, that you shouldn't gloat about your victory until you had it.'

'Don't be a smug winner, Touya!'

'Well then don't be a smug winner yourself before you've won anything, and I won't have to.'

Akira can just imagine Hikaru sticking his tongue out at the computer screen — there's even a pause in typing of a suitable length for just that kind of thing — and it makes him smile through the pang of loneliness still echoing in his chest. 

'I guess we should go to bed now.'

'I do have the title match tomorrow. Goodnight, Shindou.'

'Goodnight, Touya. I miss you.'

'I miss you too. I'll see you soon. And maybe when I see you, it'll be as the new Honinbo.'

Hikaru doesn't say anything smart-assed in response to that, a fact which means almost as much to Akira as the sexy teasing and the sweet words. They sign off from the NetGo website, and when Akira crawls into his oversized queen bed, he's a lot more relaxed than when he came into the hotel room and more than that, he feels a lot less alone. 

-

-


End file.
